Piers Anthony: Unicorn Point

“I am able to contact the self-willed machines,” Agape said. “I have a code. They support Citizen Blue completely.”

“Don’t make a call!” Tania warned. “They will be monitoring all calls!”

“No call,” Agape agreed. “There will be a private access at the spaceport.”

They arrived. There was no alarm, so far. Actually, only a few minutes had passed; Citizen Purple was probably still securing his base elsewhere.

Agape paused at a maintenance panel. She tapped on it, then spoke a few words. There seemed to be no response, and ‘Corn was afraid she hadn’t gotten through. But then a cleaning vehicle rolled up, its lid lifting to reveal a dark in terior chamber.

“Get in,” Agape said quietly.

“But—“ Corn protested, abruptly nervous.

“Do you not know me, friend?” the machine inquired. “Troubot!” ‘Corn cried. Without further protest he climbed in, and the lid closed. He was in darkness, a pris oner, but now he felt secure.

He wanted to inquire how the machines were arranging things, but before he could do so he was unconscious. He woke, disoriented. Where was he?

Then a lovely female form leaned over him, her arms reaching around his body to draw him to a sitting posture. “You’ll be a little woozy, ‘Corn, but that will pass in a moment,” she said.

“Tania!” he exclaimed. “But you have clothing on!” Indeed she did. She wore a silken tan dress cinched at the waist by a blue sash, and there was a blue ribbon in her hair. She was amazingly beautiful; the clothing made her look every inch a Citizen.

She smiled. “We’re offplanet, ‘Corn. You’ll have to don clothing too. Offworlders don’t necessarily understand about serf nakedness. We have a red suit for you.”

“Red suit?” He was still dazed, as much by the changed circumstance as the effects of his drugging. Obviously he had been put under in Troubot—trust his friend to make it easy!—and sealed in and shipped, and now they were—where?

“Red is Citizen Troal’s color,” she reminded him. “As it is for his opposite in Phaze, the Red Adept. We are at the spaceport at your father’s vacation planet; soon he will be meeting us, and we want you to be suitably attired. Then Agape and I will go on to locate Clef.” He let her dress him, bemused. He knew that clothing was worn offplanet, but this was the first time he had been away from Proton and it was hard to set aside the conditioning of a lifetime.

He felt the need to say something, but he didn’t know what.

So he asked her a personal question. “Tania—if I may ask—aren’t you in love with Mach?”

Her work never paused. She was putting socks on his feet, and then shoes. She had evidently had prior experience with such things. “ True.”

“Then how is it you are friends with Agape? I mean. Bane uses the same body—”

“My love is doomed,” she said. “Mach does not love me. No doubt in time I will get over it.”

“But didn’t he promise—“

“I want his love, not his promise!” she flared. Then, immediately, she apologized. “I’m sorry, ‘Corn; I shouldn’t have said that. My situation is no concern of yours. I have been foolish in my emotion; see that when you grow up you are more sensible.”

“Too late,” he said wryly. “I love Nepe, and she loves Troubot.”

Tania stared at him. Then she hugged him. “You do understand!” she murmured, and he felt the wetness of tears at his neck. Suddenly he was very glad he had spoken. Agape appeared, resplendent in a blue dress. It was amazing what clothing did for a person! ‘Corn, standing now be fore a mirror, hardly recognized himself; they were like three different people.

They walked out to meet Citizen Troal. But it was the Bat Girl, in bright red, who came to meet them. He had never seen her dressed before, either; she was the loveliest of all! “Mother!” he cried, and flung himself into her arms.

“Tania and I must go on to find the musician Clef,” Agape said. “ ‘Corn’s key indicates that this is our only avenue to reverse the treachery of the Contrary Citizens.”

‘Corn’s mother smiled. “My husband is already contacting him. We shall hold a video conference. Our cottage is about fifteen minutes away.”

They rode in the odd conveyance of this planet. It was like a boat, that sailed above a rail set in the ground. Its magnetic suspension was smooth, and as it moved it really did seem to have the buoyancy of a waterbome craft. But even stranger was the landscape through which they rode: there was no dome! The atmosphere of this planet was unpolluted; it was possible to breathe anywhere. There were even plants and trees growing as far afield as he could see. As with the cloth ing: he had known this was the case with many planets, but it was an awesome thing actually to experience. Made giddy by this new environment, ‘Corn was embold ened to ask his mother a personal question. “Why are you called the Bat Girl, Mother, when you don’t look anything like a bat?” The oddest thing was that he had never wondered about this before; seeing her in clothing had changed his view of her in more than the physical sense.

She laughed. “Your father named me that! It is because of Agape.”

“Agape?” he repeated, startled.

“Some time back, I exchanged places with Fleta the unicorn in Phaze,” Agape answered. “In Phaze I was helped by an ugly old troll and a beautiful young vampire. I talked to each, and learned that each was afraid to broach a certain matter to the other: he because he believed that no woman could care for a troll, she because she regarded herself as an animal, having originated as a bat. Because I owed each a debt I could not myself repay, I urged the lady bat to approach the troll.”

“But what has that to do with my mother?” ‘Corn demanded.

“They did get together, and soon married,” Agape ex plained. “They had a son whom they chose to name after my Proton identity, calling him Alien. Because things tend to be parallel between the frames, something similar happened in Proton, and the happy couple named their son Unicorn, after the person whose body I used in Phaze.”

‘Corn was stunned. “A troll—a vampire bat—and a unicorn?”

His mother hugged him. “I’m sure your opposite number is no happier about being named after an amoebic alien creature. But we identify strongly with our Phaze counterparts; Phaze is the magic in our lives, even though we can not visit it.”

‘Corn was silent. Why hadn’t he realized this before? Nepe had spoken of her contact with Flach, and his friend Al. Al the alien, ‘Corn the unicorn! How obvious, suddenly! They arrived at the residence. It was a cottage right out in the open, surrounded by flowering trees. But ‘Corn was be coming acclimatized to such marvels; they had serious business to transact.

Citizen Troal met them at the door. ‘Corn had never thought of his father as a troll before, but now he could see how tall and ugly he was. Of course appearance didn’t matter for a Citizen; the most beautiful woman would marry one in an instant, for the sake of the power and comfort of the life he offered. ‘Corn had assumed this was the case with his mother; now he knew that there was more to it than that. “We are tracking the musician,” Troal announced. “He should be on the screen momentarily.”

Indeed, Clef appeared soon after they entered. He was life size on the wall screen, but the distance between planets caused his image to flicker slightly. He was a man of Troal’s age, with a severely receding hairline and the same archaic spectacles the key had shown. “I have not been in touch with Planet Proton for more than a quarter century,” he said. “To what do I owe the honor of this contact?”